


Cry No More

by shaylea



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Jared, Hurt/Comfort, J2 non-AU, JIBcon 8, M/M, Not coping, Oral Sex, Post-Trauma, Protective Jensen Ackles, Recovering Jared Padalecki, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Jensen, flirtation, taking care of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 00:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11025072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaylea/pseuds/shaylea
Summary: It's JIBcon 2017, two years on from the one Jared missed, and Jensen is having a hard time returning to Rome.This is an exploration of what happened in Rome both in 2017 and in 2015 from Jensen's perspective.





	Cry No More

 

They’re back in Rome. 

It’s the airport that begins it.  Even though he’s landed at Fiumicino airport numerous times, the sight of it reminds Jensen of the night he landed there two years ago so desperate to turn his phone on again so he could make sure that Jared was still alive.  His hand automatically goes to his phone even now, despite the fact that he can see Jared right beside him, laughing as he fumbles with his bag while pulling on his beanie. 

The beanie.  Why is Jared wearing it?

“Jay?”

Those beloved hazel eyes sparkle down at him despite being rimmed with exhaustion.  “We’re back in Europe, Jensen!  Isn’t it insane?  Vancouver, Florida, LA, Australia, home, New York, Rome, all in a couple of weeks?  Our lives, man.”

Their lives, yes.  Jared’s life, so precious, yet so fragile.  Relived he’s not thinking about two years ago, Jensen brushes a hand across Jared’s back.  “Let’s do this thing.”

Jared grabs his hand and for once Jensen doesn’t let go.  He can’t.  Just for now he needs to hold onto his boy.

On the long ride into Rome itself, Jared gives in to his tiredness and falls asleep against Jensen’s chest.  Jensen strokes him, liking the way Jared’s body seems to settle and relax beneath his touch even though Jared is lost in a deep sleep.  Two years ago he’d made this trip by himself, on the phone nonstop even though Jared was mostly incoherent and couldn’t speak.  He’d just needed to hear that Jared was still breathing.  He’d needed to hear that continuously and hanging up to check into the hotel and speak to other human beings had felt like the worst moment of his life.

It wasn’t.  Of course it wasn’t.  That had come two days earlier when he’d been trapped in Scotland with a family that wasn’t his while the family that _was_ , the only family that ultimately counted for Jensen no matter how much he knew that was wrong, hung up the phone after the most chilling words Jensen had ever heard: “You’d be better off without me.”

He shakes off the memory, sliding his hand beneath Jared’s loose shirt so he can rest it against skin kept warm by the continued beating of Jared’s heart.  _Always keep beating_ , he thinks, a paraphrase of the slogan that kept Jared alive while he flew in the opposite direction from Jensen and Jensen couldn’t follow.  _Always keep beating, always keep living.  Always keep staying here with me, God, please, Jared, don’t leave me._

It’s okay.  He’s okay.  They’re both okay.

His mantra for the past two years.

Jared hardly wakes up for the check-in process.  He hangs off Jensen, dropping his head to Jensen’s shoulder while their passports are checked, and Jensen bears the load eagerly.  _Let me, Jared.  Let me hold you when you can no longer hold up yourself.  Let me take the weight for you so you don’t need to.  Let me love you and take care of you and cherish you every moment of the day._

It’s easy to gain access to Jared’s room by saying, “I’ll get him to bed.  Just leave my bags here and I’ll take them to my room later.” 

Jared slumps onto the end of the bed and lets Jensen remove his clothes, his shoes, his watch.  Jensen saves the beanie for last, and Jared’s eyes flicker open as he feels its removal tug his hair.  “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”  Jensen drops a kiss on the sweaty head.  “You wanna shower?”

“Want you.”

“I’m gonna shower.  If you want me, that’s where I’ll be.”

“No fun,” Jared murmurs, but he’s smiling sleepily.  “This bed is calling for us.  It wants you too.”

“And it’ll get me.”  Jensen pulls his own shirt over his head and tosses it on the chair in the corner.  “C’mon, just a quick one.”

But the water wakes Jared up and the excuse that he’s too tired to stand gets him on his knees without protest from Jensen and soon Jensen is gasping and clutching at long wet strands of hair and Jared beams up at him afterwards, satisfied as he licks his lips.  “You are the best thing I’ve ever tasted.  Every goddamn time.”

“Can’t fuck you now,” Jensen points out, panting. 

Jared grins.  “You can eat me out, though.  See if I taste just as good.”

He does.  Of course he does.  And their quick shower ends up taking nearly an hour, but by the time they fall into bed, Jared wrapped around Jensen like the octopus he always is, Jensen feels like he can cope with returning to the JIBcon hotel in the morning, like he’ll be able to be lighthearted and entertaining and focused on the fans the way he should be during a convention instead of on the fact that two years ago he was here alone.

 

*

 

It almost works.  Saturday goes by in a blitz of laughter and fun.  As it becomes obvious that autographs are running behind, he makes the executive decision to combine his solo panel with Jared’s for a second double.  Daniela isn’t impressed, but he doesn’t really care.  Tomorrow she’ll inflict his least favourite moment of every year on him, and he’ll cooperate like he always does, but today he wants something for himself.  He wants his bright, beautiful, blazing boy beside him, within sight, preferably, at all times.

Their second panel is one of the most delightful hours Jensen’s ever spent on a convention stage.  True, the ‘apple juice’ helps take the edge off it, but he’s feeling relaxed and happy, revelling in the way Jared seems unaffected by the memories of two years ago.  Last year it hit Jared hard, returning to Rome for the first time since he’d let everyone down, and Jensen had spent the weekend fixated on keeping him together amidst all the hazards of alcohol, Misha, and Jared’s clinging wife.  This year they’re here on their own and Misha is only tomorrow and they’ve regulated their intake so that they’re just slightly buzzed.

“Hey Jared.”  Jensen can’t stop himself from saying his name, over and over again.  Jared flits around the stage, laughing, showing off those endless legs and what they can do.  He even plops himself on Jensen’s knee, the same knee he’s been poking at all day, fingering Jensen’s skin through the rips that he’d laughed uproariously about when Jensen had finally opened the pack of jeans Jared bought him in Australia.  Jensen had vowed never to wear them, not a chance, but when packing for Rome he’d tossed them in for precisely this reason, just in case he needed to distract his boy from darker thoughts.  Even though Jared’s showing no signs of suffering from the darkness, he’s worn them anyway.  Maybe because he knows Jared won’t be able to keep his hands off him.  Maybe because this time the darkness is threatening him instead, but there’s no way he will tell Jared, not while they’re still here and vulnerable.  This way he can get Jared’s hands on him without having to let him know just how badly he needs them. 

They play with the spinning wheel.  Jared loves it, and Jensen indulges him even when his behaviour turns risqué and he sticks the _surprise_ sign right over Jensen’s crotch then dances around with the _drink_ sign plastered to his own.  It’s outrageous and potentially perilous, but Jensen doesn’t care.  Jensen right now is ready to give Jared anything he wants, _everything_ he wants, as long as it keeps this joy on his face.  No matter the crowd watching, no matter the avid hordes following online.  Nothing matters in this moment except for Jared shining and glowing and _living_.  Enjoying being alive. 

Being alive.

Jared is still alive.

He’s still alive and two years ago he so nearly wasn’t.

Two years ago Jensen was alone on this stage, alone with this same guitar in his hands.

“Hey Jared.”

His fingers start playing without his control.  He needs to do this. 

Two years ago Jared watched Jensen’s every panel from Texas, and he’d been calling Jensen’s phone even as Jensen had stumbled off the stage in tears after playing this song.  Several times during the months since then, he’s asked Jensen to play it for him again, as a reminder of where they were then compared to where they are now.  A reminder of all they’ve fought through and conquered. 

Jensen watches as Jared freezes in front of him.  He wishes he could see his face, but he knows he’ll be able to see it later, thanks to the fans recording every moment.  Jared’s not rigid, though.  He gets it.  He gets Jensen’s message. 

In the green room afterwards he slams Jensen through the next door into the private bathroom.  “I need you in me,” he says, hands already scrabbling at his jeans.  “Now, Jensen.”

“We don’t have—“

“Don’t care.”  His pants are down around his ankles and he starts on Jensen’s.  “Now.  Need you.  That was—I _need_ you.”

There’s liquid soap, and although it’s far from ideal, it’ll do, because no way is Jensen taking Jared without adequate preparation.  Even so, Jared doesn’t allow him much time, just a matter of seconds before he’s demanding, “More.  All of them, Jensen.  Now.”  Jensen complies, two fingers quickly turning to three, way too fast, it’s gonna hurt anyway, but Jared doesn’t care and the steady stream of need coming from Jared’s lips makes Jensen not care the way he should.

“Wanted you in me there,” Jared gasps as Jensen lines himself up.  “There in front of them.  There for everyone to see.  Want them to know you’re mine.  That you belong in me.”

Jensen slides in and it should be tight, it should tug and burn, but it doesn’t.  Jared’s body is warm and slick and welcomes him right in, just as it always does.  He loves Jared’s deep grunt of satisfaction as Jensen bottoms out inside him.  It gets him every time, and he has to pause for a moment to keep from coming instantly.  Jared’s not letting him today, however, because he tightens and shifts, pushing back as hard as he can.

“They should see this.  Should film it.  You in me so deep, all the way, Jensen.  You’re part of me.”

“I’m always part of you.”  Jensen’s voice doesn’t work properly, and his hands clutch at Jared’s back, at the t-shirt he’d shown off on the stage.  “I’m always inside you, always with you, always in you.”

“Harder.  Want you more.”

Everyone else will be returning to the green room now to prepare for their transfer back to the city, but Jensen can’t find it in himself to care.  Two years ago he’d sobbed on the floor of this very room, sobbed till he’d choked and thrown up and felt like his skin was ripping off.  Two years ago Jared was in Texas wanting to die and Jensen was here not wanting to live if those were the terms.  If only he could fit his entire body inside Jared, feel Jared surround him everywhere, burrow all the way to Jared’s heart and physically keep it beating himself. 

“I’m alive,” Jared says, and as usual he’s following Jensen’s thoughts, helped, no doubt, by the hand clenched in his t-shirt over that beating heart.  “I’m alive and I’m here and you’re with me, inside me, we’re together, Jensen, we’re together and we’re home, you came home to me and I’m yours and you’re mine and we’re _alive!"_

Jensen comes on the word, burying his scream in Jared’s damp shoulder, leaving lacerations that drip blood, the life-giving blood that still pumps around Jared’s body, that hasn’t stopped, that, pray God, will never stop so long as Jensen is of this earth.

 

*

 

Dinner is with the rest of the cast at a fancy restaurant downtown Rome.  Everyone politely acts as though they didn’t hear the two stars of the show screaming their sexual release in the bathroom, which relieves Jensen because he’s unable to joke it off.  Jared says something about difficult memories when they emerge, and it stings that Jared’s having to make excuses for him, after all, Jared’s the one the bad stuff happened to back then, not Jensen, but he’s too brittle right now to intervene. 

Fortunately they’ve been seated at opposite ends of the long table.  Normally Jensen would object, he’d want to keep Jared beside him, but tonight it’s a relief.  He can still see Jared, and he neglects his seatmates shamefully with his need to watch him at the other end of the table.  He seems fine, unshadowed eyes, perpetually laughing mouth.  Jensen drinks more than he should because currently he has no words, he has no reality outside of that achingly beautiful man, and alcohol unlocks his tongue and helps him act.  Helps him fake it. 

Helps him fake that he has any existence whatsoever that isn’t plastered to Jared.

Because he doesn’t.

He truly doesn’t.

And if Jared leaves, if one day Jared can’t take it any longer and makes the choice he decided against two years ago, Jensen knows he won’t be far behind.  He doesn’t have the options Dean has of crossroads demons and reapers and angels, but he does have the option to make the same choice as Jared, if it comes down to it. 

And his choice is already made.

Jared wants to play when they get back to the hotel.  It’s 2am and they need to sleep, morning is coming way too soon, but morning is JIBcon Sunday, Misha-day, no Jared, and so Jensen indulges him.  He lets Jared lick the sweat off his body from the sultry Rome evening, lets Jared return the favour from last night even though they both know Jared likes receiving it more, lets Jared bite bruises across his stomach and thighs until he’s sobbing from pain and frenzied with need, and only then does Jared give in and slide onto him with only the preparation from hours ago, but Jensen’s too far gone to stop him, to control any of this. 

 

*

 

In the morning, of course, Jared doesn’t want to wake up.  Not even after Jensen pulls the covers off him and threatens to douse him with water.  Eventually he mumbles a promise to shower if Jensen will go downstairs and bring him back some coffee and muffins.  Jensen gets delayed chatting to Rob and David, who can’t believe he’s not hungover, and isn’t surprised when he returns to find Jared sound asleep again.  He looks blissful, with none of the tension that often strains his sleep, and it physically hurts to have to shake him awake. 

“Jared, we have work today.”

“Now?”

“An hour ago.”

“Help me,” Jared says, looking falteringly across the floor to the bathroom.

“I’ve already showered and dressed, dude.”

“Don’t care.”

“It’ll take too long—“

“Don’t care, Jensen.  I’ll fall in the shower and drown and then where will you be?”

Even though he knows it’s a joke, Jensen feels a shudder run down his spine.  “I’ll be with you. Okay?”

It does take too long, but he doesn’t have the heart to rush Jared, and he wills the traffic to eke out the car ride as long as possible while Jared naps in his lap.  The others laugh at Jared’s impression of an owl when he tries to wake up, and pretend they don’t see Jensen’s hand tangling through Jared’s curls as he eases him back down again.

He hates abandoning Jared to his solo panel.  He still hasn’t fully woken up, but Jensen has to hurry off to take photos with Misha.  It’s their first forced encounter of the weekend—welcome to JIB Sunday—but Jensen barely notices as he automatically complies with whatever pose is requested of him, all his concentration on getting through the minutes until Jared returns to his sight.  Fortunately he has photo ops with Jared next, and even though he knows fans search for it and he really shouldn’t be so obvious, he allows his fingers to find a part of Jared’s body in every single photo, letting Jared take the burden of hugs and smiles and fun chitchat with the excited women who are so eager to fling themselves into his arms.  Yes, Jensen can empathise.  It’s taking everything he has to refrain from doing the same, and he blesses the few who request a pose that allows him to snuggle right up against Jared. 

It’s okay.  He’s okay.  They’re both okay.

Far too soon he has to tear himself away for his own solo panel.  When it’s done, he is rushed straight into his meet & greet without laying eyes on Jared.  It’s not acceptable, but he has no choice.  When he gets out of that, it’s time for autographs, and still no Jared. 

“Where the fuck is he?”  Jensen doesn’t usually use bad language around Daniela, but she’s hustling him along the corridor and avoiding mentioning Jared and heads are going to roll in a minute if he doesn’t get answers.

“Jensen!”  It’s Jared, bright and beaming, a steaming coffee in the hand he’s holding out to Jensen.  “I knew you wouldn’t have time for a proper break so I got this for you.” 

It’s okay.  He’s okay.  They’re both okay. 

They’re in full view of the fans, who, while they’re forbidden to film in here, will be avidly listening to report back on twitter to the world.  He can’t pull Jared into his arms, so he settles for making the cup handover last as long as possible, their fingers clinging.  Jared slants him a grin when Jensen takes a too-hot gulp. 

“Good?”

“Good.”

It’s a shorthand, both questions, both answers.  _I’m good, what about you?_   Yes.  They’re both good.  They’re both good and on show and Jensen wants to meet all the eager fans, truly he does.  They’re amazing and important and he and Jared wouldn’t be here without them, so he bucks himself up and allows himself only the odd glance across the room while he focuses fully on each person in front of him.  These few seconds with him is the highlight of their lives for some of them, and he wants to make it as special as he can.  Hearing Jared’s laugh echo across the room every now and then helps as well, and he’s starting to feel relaxed and normal again when Misha leads two women over to Jensen’s table.

They’re suicide hotline volunteers. 

The one has spent 50 hours talking people out of killing themselves. 

Talking people out of killing themselves the way Jensen tried to do with Jared and so very nearly failed. 

SO very nearly.

The sound of Jared’s broken sobs roars through his mind, his muscles seizing in retrospect with the helpless terror that he still dreams of.  These women aren’t helpless.  They know what to do, and they help countless others who are just like Jared.  And thanks to _Supernatural_ , there are more of them; thanks to his meagre little efforts, there are these trained women able to help.  Women who could save Jared’s life when living because Jensen wanted him to wasn’t enough.

Tears obscure his vision when he lifts his eyes to seek Jared out.  This is horribly unprofessional but Jensen has to get away from here before he falls apart spectacularly in front of everyone.  He wants to run, but he can’t.  There’s nowhere to run to.  He could try to make Daniela’s room, but the corridors between there and here are filled with fans and they’d see him and he can’t—he can’t—

“I've got you.” 

Jensen feels Jared’s warmth surround him before the words register.  He needs to plaster himself against Jared, needs to kiss him, taste him, but a tiny part of his brain is still functioning and it reminds him that they’re completely surrounded by fans and because of that he doesn’t move at all.  He doesn’t even breathe.

“I’ve got you, Jensen,” Jared says again, and he turns Jensen’s body into his, placing himself between Jensen and all the fascinated onlookers.  He presses Jensen’s face against his chest.  “I’ve got you.  I’m here.  I’m okay and you’re okay.”

It’s okay, Jared’s okay, they’re both okay.  Jensen can breathe.  He times his breaths with Jared’s, slowly in, slowly out, a technique Jared found on the internet to help him when they started doing conventions and Jensen thought he’d never cope.  The familiarity of it is soothing, and far sooner than he wants to, Jensen knows he’s okay enough to continue.

“Jay,” he whispers.

“Twenty minutes ‘til lunch, okay?” Jared whispers back.  “Can you do that?”

“’Course.”

He’s rewarded with the rumble against his cheek of Jared’s laugh.  Jared sneaks his hand between them, laying his finger against Jensen’s lips.  “That’s the kiss that’s waiting for you, babe.”

Jensen makes himself pull away.  Jared’s shirt soaked away the hot tears he couldn’t stop, but he’s in control again now.  He can do this.  He manages to return Jared’s encouraging smile.  “I’ve got this.  Go get yours.”

As he’d intended, Jared bursts into laughter at the double entendre, and all eyes in the room follow him as he sashays back to his table, giving Jensen a moment to collect himself, to move from being Jared’s lover to being Jensen Ackles, star of _Supernatural_.  It’s not easy, he still has to imagine Jared’s lungs pressed against him in order to breathe, and making eye contact with the fans before him doesn’t seem to work very well, but he manages to see out the twenty minutes.  He hasn’t given them what they’ve come for, but at least they’re walking away with the scribble of his name, and right now that’s all he’s capable of giving. 

The moment Daniela announces lunch, he’s up.  He doesn’t dare go near Jared, not while they’re still in public, so he heads straight for the green room and the bathroom that—thank God—has different memories now, memories that help him finally gain independent breath as he splashes cold water on his sweating face.  The mirror is a relief, reflecting a man with slightly wild eyes but who otherwise looks normal and okay.  He’d feared the worst out there, afraid his internal ravages were wrought across his face for all to see.  But they’re not.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he walks straight into Misha. 

“Jensen,” Misha says, attempting to pull him into a hug.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise—“

“Don’t do that.”  Jensen jerks away.  “It’s fine.  I’m fine.”

“No, I know you are, I just want to apologise for—“

“He’s fine.”  Jared’s voice cuts over Misha’s.  “Jensen, come here a minute.”

Misha blinks up at him, and Jensen knows he should say something, but he doesn’t, he just turns to follow Jared, who leads him back out of the green room, calling greetings at the fans who scream at their appearance but not stopping, steering Jensen through them all and through a door into a blessedly quiet hallway. 

“Daniela says there’s a room here where we can take a nap before the afternoon session.”

Jensen tries to find his voice.  “A nap,” he repeats, going for sarcasm.  “Really?”

“I’m still tired.” 

“You are?”

Jared drops the act that this is all about him.  “Please come and lie down with me.  Just for half an hour.  Misha told me what happened and I just want to lie close to you for a bit.”

“Nothing happened.” But Jensen obediently follows Jared to the room down the passage.  “I just—we—the fans, they—you know?”

“I know.”  Jared ushers him inside then locks the door behind them.  “We don’t have to talk about it.  You can tell me tonight after this is all over.  Just come sleep with me.”

Now that the adrenalin is receding Jensen realises he feels dazed, more than a little dizzy, and he sits when Jared pushes him down.  “Set your alarm.”

“I’ve got it.  Lie down.”

“Jay—“

“Lie down, Jensen.  I’ll join you in a second.”

One of Dean’s lines about Sam taking control echoes through Jensen’s head as he does what he’s told.  It’s inappropriate right now—it was inappropriate then, and he still can’t believe it made it into the show—but it makes him smile into the soft pillows and keeps him occupied for the seconds it takes until he feels Jared ease onto the bed behind him and press a kiss to the back of his neck.

“I’ve set the alarm, and Daniela’s gonna bring us some food in 40 minutes.”

“’kay.”

“Sleep now.”

He doesn’t want to.  He wants to lie here, awake, savouring Jared’s body wrapped around him, Jared’s scent enveloping him, Jared’s hand curled loosely over his heart, so he does.  Jared quickly drops off, not having lied about still being tired, and Jensen feels a pang.  He’s being selfish as all hell, what the fuck is wrong with him?  Jared’s being fantastically strong and together, and he ought to have a partner who can support him the way he deserves.

If he did, maybe he wouldn’t have wanted to leave. 

It’s a thought that Jensen has spent two years trying not to think, but it’s always there in the back of his mind.  If their life wasn’t so fucked up, maybe Jared wouldn’t have found it so unbearable.  If Jensen had been able to arrange things better, less destructively for them both.  If _Jensen_ had been better, had looked after him properly. 

If Jensen had just known what to say and how to say it instead of driving Jared off to Switzerland in a huff and right to the brink of death.

He’s read the chapter Jared wrote for that book.  There’s the single sentence that haunts him:  “I knew I wouldn’t get out of Switzerland alive.”

Jensen had let him go to Switzerland.  Alone.  How had he not seen?  How had he not _known_?

And how does Jensen keep it from happening again?

Maybe he should do that hotline training.  Learn what words to use.  Or at least what not to use.  Learn what words could prevent Jared from believing the world would be better off without him.  There are words that obviously work, otherwise things like the hotline wouldn’t have a point.  There are words to save people. 

And Jensen needs to know what they are.

Jared doesn’t stir when Jensen reaches to turn off the alarm before it sounds, nor when he lets Daniela in with their lunch. 

“I brought you apple juice,” she says, gesturing.  “Maybe it makes things easier for you and for him.”

Jensen knows why she really presses the alcohol on them, and usually he doesn’t mind too much but today it feels obscene and he wants to smash it into her face.

No.  He isn’t Dean.  He doesn’t navigate life via violence.  So he smiles and takes it from her and thanks her and is tempted to throw the lot down the toilet.  He’s actually heading towards the bathroom with the bottle when Jared’s sleepy voice stops him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“It’s not gonna help.”

“It’ll take the edge off, Jensen.  Right now you’re wound tighter than a spring; you couldn’t even sleep.”

“I slept.”

“You didn’t.”

“You wouldn’t know, out-like-a-lightbulb boy.”

Jared swings his legs off the side of the bed to sit up.  “Jensen,” he says reproachfully.

“You sound like Daniela, trying to make me drink.”

“At least you know it’s not because of Misha fantasies, though.”

“Ugh.”  Jensen doesn’t need to fake the shudder as he heads back towards the table.  “Come eat with me and maybe I’ll have some.  God knows I’ll be wishing for it come 5 o’clock.”

Jared stretches and yawns, then joins Jensen in the easy chairs on either side of the small table where Daniela’d placed the tray of food.  “I had an idea about that, actually.”

"About what?”

"Misha.”

“We lock him in the bathroom and throw away the key and do another panel together instead?”

Jared laughs.  “That would definitely be entertaining, but no.”  He serves himself some pasta and chicken and takes a bit.  “Hey, this is good.”

Always happy to hear Jared being in favour of food, Jensen serves himself.  “Tell me your idea.”

 

*

 

Two hours later, Jensen is ploughing his way through more autographs, this time far more professionally, when Jared and Misha return to the room from their panel.  Misha looks slightly shell-shocked and Jared sends him a thumbs up.  Phase one complete.  Good.  Jensen’s still not convinced that this is the best way to deal with this, God knows the repercussions could be hideous, but he’s done being JIBcon’s whipping boy. 

Instead of worrying about it, he focuses on ensuring every fan who wants an autograph gets one.  It means continuing to fight with Daniela, who seems to have been inspired by the Australia-like factory line conditions, but he’s done with that too.  He feels bad enough that he short-changed the autograph seekers this morning, and he’s going to do whatever it takes to make up for it. 

During a brief break, he heads over to Jared.  Under the guise of massaging his shoulders, he whispers, “So?”

Jared sparkles up at him.  “Do your thing, dude.”

He squeezes the shoulders that are blessedly free from tension, a lot more relaxed than his own.  “See you after.”

He drinks steadily through the rest of the autograph session.  It’ll make it easier to do what he plans, even though he’s nowhere near as drunk as he wishes when he can put it off no longer.  Misha’s been sitting on the stairs waiting for him, and leaps up when Jensen approaches.

“I wanted to apologise—“

“I already told you, it’s fine.”  Whoa, moving seems to have made the alcohol slosh through his system a little more thoroughly and Jensen has to reach a hand out to the wall to steady himself.  “Let’s go do this.”

It’s a blood bath.  Truth be told, he’s looking forward to seeing the videos later, to enjoying Misha’s shock and horror all over again.  This is how he’s made Jensen feel year after year after year, and Jensen is heady on turning the tables.  He revels particularly in the way Misha’s mouth falls open when he undoes his trousers.  Misha’s always felt safe out here, safe that he can push and prod and titillate the fans with all his innuendo because Jensen will never let it get very far, and now Jensen’s shoving open his trousers in front of everyone and Misha has no idea where to look.

It’s even funnier when Misha sees what Jensen’s actually showing him.  The part of Jensen that delights in double meanings and ambiguity laughs aloud at the uproar of the audience behind him, because they have not a single clue that today he has his favourite underwear on, worn with the express intention to cheer Jared up when this is finally over.  They think he’s flashing Misha and that all their dreams have come true, and the part of him that loathes them for it subsides into silence for once. 

He’s actually enjoying himself.  He spends all his time restraining his baser impulses and right now he’s giving in to every single one of them and it is joyous, absolutely joyous.  He lets every thought straight out his mouth and watches Misha’s dismay gradually morph into fear of what the hell Jensen is going to do next.

Yeah, he’s finally gonna finish one of these things on top.

Except.

Except.

Except Misha breaks, and Jensen isn’t even able to enjoy his victory because fucking Misha brings up the suicide hotline ladies. 

Jensen’s not sure what happens next.  He knows he takes over the story, because his mouth is still saying what’s going through his brain and everything’s pouring out of him.  He’s not even sure if he’s making sense, and he hopes to hell he’s leaving Jared out of it.  That’s all he needs, to have this con known forever as the con where he flashed Misha then outed himself and Jared.  He’s crying again, he’s aware of that because his vision blurs, and that’s not what he intended at all, but he can’t stop.  The words about Jared are about to come, but he manages to wrench them back and turn the focus on the fans, on the good that they’ve done, on the abnormal connection that exists between the stars of this television series based on horror and mayhem and the audience that may be messed up and dysfunctional, but, hey, aren’t all families?

And this _is_ a family.  It’s the family he and Jared have created around themselves, and members of this family are going out and saving lives and Jensen is fierce with pride over it. 

Any person he can play even the tiniest role in saving the life of makes it worth it, makes _him_ worth it, even if he wasn’t enough to save Jared.

No matter how many times Jared repeats that no one can help you but yourself.

Jensen needs to be the person who inspires him to help himself. 

It’s too much now.  It’s too much for him and he needs this to stop, so he seeks refuge at the spinning wheel and vents his excess of emotion on that damn unicorn.  For a while he thinks it’s going to be okay, but then the next question comes asking how he deals with hate and something cracks deep within him.  The hate doesn’t bother him, but it bothers Jared and, try as he might, Jensen can’t shield him from all of it.  Right now the words that are going to come out of Jensen’s mouth are not words he can say, certainly not to fans he’s just expressed enormous appreciation to, and his mind goes blank.  There wasn’t enough apple juice for this.

All of a sudden, the rest of the cast flood onto the stage.  They surround him in a massive group hug and it’s over.  He’s survived. 

He doesn’t know how to face Jared after what just happened, especially when Adam corrects his relieved “Saved by the bell” to “Saved by Jared”, meaning Jared was watching that train wreck, so he leaps into a final entertaining story, confirms for everyone that Daniela will inflict this on them all again next year, then leaves them celebrating behind him.  He feels the pat on his ass from Jared as he exits the stage and knows he’ll be close behind, but will see out the closing festivities for them both. 

Because this year, Jared is here to do that. 

And this year there is no wife for Jensen to humiliate himself over.

This year Jared is safe and alive and all Jensen’s, regardless of what’s waiting for them at home.

He stops when he hears the strains of _Wayward Son_ coming from hallway outside.  He can’t take that right now, not on top of everything, but it infiltrates his heart and draws him forward.  And then Jared is there behind him, sliding around him with a sly hand on Jensen’s hip, and Jensen stumbles to a stop to watch as Jared dances amongst the crowd, high-fiving and laughing and shining and brilliant, the eternal sun in Jensen’s sky.

He is Jensen’s inspiration.  Jensen’s reason.  Jensen’s everything.

And right now he is okay.

And if Jensen lets the music carry him forward, Jared does too.  The words flow through them both, and Jared sinks down to lay his weary head to rest on Jensen’s shoulder as Jensen entreats him to cry no more. 

It won’t last.  It may not even last the night. 

But it’s enough for now. 

Both of them are enough for now. 


End file.
